


the feeling of you

by Kitsilver



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Female Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsilver/pseuds/Kitsilver
Summary: A series of connected one-shots, and a multi-chapter arc, about Eivor and Randvi and the feelings that they have for each other and can barely name.
Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 88
Kudos: 518





	1. something new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eivor was no breaker of hearts, but when there was someone she wanted, she made it known. To keep it hidden now, that too, was new.

There were worse things than being out in the rain on a cold spring morning, Eivor told herself as she crouched beneath the boughs of a tree, rain dripping from the hood of her cloak. The leather had been treated with tallow so rain slicked off it like water off a seal’s back, but her boots were definitely wet. No matter. Eivor rolled her shoulders once, twice, releasing the tension that had been building for hours after crouching in relative stillness. Her gaze was fixed on the small burrow where the fox had made its nest, her bow at the ready. 

It had been some days ago when she had come upon Randvi in the longhouse, not at her table as usual looking at the map with a furrowed brow, thinking of all the ways they could strengthen their clan, but standing by the door. Eivor had paused to admire the way the sunlight fell on her face and brought out the gold and warm reds in her hair, seemed to highlight the softness of her cheeks and the curve of her lips. Randvi had always been beautiful, the awareness of this was not new.

What was new though, was the warmth in Eivor’s chest whenever she looked at Randvi. What was new was the slight and slightly bitter twist of longing that seemed to accompany the fondness with which she had always felt for Randvi. What was new was having to hold herself back from standing too close, from reaching out to touch when there was no need.

Eivor was no breaker of hearts, but when there was someone she wanted, she made it known. To keep it hidden now, that was new.

Randvi looked up then, green eyes meeting hers, and that familiar smile as she called out in greeting. “Hello Eivor, it is good to see you.”

“Hello Randvi,” Eivor replied, voice husky. Was it her imagination, or did Randvi’s smile falter for a moment, her breath catching as her gaze slipped to Eivor’s lips?

No, Eivor thought as Randvi looked up again, nothing but fondness and welcome in her eyes. Surely not.

“You have returned from Ledecestrescire then. With good news?”

Eivor nodded. “The new king of Mercia sends his regards, and pledges his oath to us.”

“As to be expected from our prized drengr,” Randvi said with a smile. “You never disappoint, Eivor.”

Eivor hummed with pleasure at the praise, then noticed for the first time what Randvi held in her hands: her favorite green cloak with the red fox fur at the hood. “Is something wrong with your cloak?”

“Ah, yes,” Randvi said, a forlorn note in her voice. She showed Eivor the splash of sticky black pitch that marred the fox fur. “I was helping our shipbuilder with the newest longship. I should have thought to take this off, but I did not.” She shrugged. “Spills happen I know; I just wish I were not wearing this at the time.”

Eivor winced as she watched Randvi stroke the now ruined fur. It was – or had been – beautiful, a soft burnished copper that seemed to match the color of Randvi’s hair. Randvi had favored the cloak since the moment Eivor had met her, a gift from her father for her wedding. It was a small piece of home, of a life lived before her marriage. It wouldn’t be the same now, with the black tar impossible to remove.

“Can the fur be replaced?” Eivor asked. “The cloak looks fine except for that.”

“It can be,” Randvi said, but after a moment she sighed and put the cloak away. Eivor did not miss how her fingers lingered on the fur. “We have other concerns now, and no coin to spare. I have other cloaks, Eivor,” she said when Eivor opened her mouth to reply. “Do not worry.”

Eivor said nothing, but she could not stop thinking of the look in Randvi’s eyes, of the brief sadness there. Randvi rarely spoke of it, but Eivor knew that part of her missed home and the family she had not seen in several years. That fur cloak was a reminder of them and of her past. She would get the hood replaced eventually, she was far too practical to let it go to waste, but she would take her time. Randvi asked little for herself, and this would be low on her list of priorities.

Which was how Eivor found herself in the wood and in the rain, hunting for a fox that was just the right shade of red. It took Eivor several days to find the right one, with fur copper bright, red and glossy like Randvi’s hair. It would not be the same, but at least the look of it could remind Randvi of what it had been. Eivor hoped that would be enough to make her smile.

There was movement in the burrow.

Eivor tensed, all thought banished as she honed in on the entrance to the burrow. She kept her body still, her breathing even, as a small black nose carefully sniffed the air. The fox emerged slowly, its ears swiveling to catch the slightest sound as it crept out of its den. It stopped just as its body was fully exposed, standing straight, head turned away from Eivor.

Eivor took a deep breath, then in a single motion rose to a kneeling position, raised her bow, and loosed her arrow.

The fox fell without a sound. Eivor sent a prayer to the goddess Skadi in thanks, then went to claim it.

***

Randvi looked at the maps in front of her, thinking of the alliances they had yet to make and what they must do to secure them, when a voice called her name.

Eivor.

Randvi looked up to see Eivor striding toward her, a look of eagerness on her face that was different than usual. Randvi had to smile. Eivor was never very good at hiding her feelings. Whether she felt angry or sad, happy or excited as she was now, it was always clear as day by reading her face. Even by someone who was not used to reading faces, as Randvi was. Even by someone who had not spent time studying her face, in all the years they had known each other, as Randvi had.

As Eivor walked toward her, Randvi could not ignore the way her heart leapt and skipped a beat, which was foolish, but Randvi could not help it. Whatever Eivor was doing, whether she was training or fighting or even just walking, she moved with a fluid strength and grace that caught the eye. And her face, rugged in its beauty and its scars, in the fierceness of her storm-gray eyes, was captivating. Many times, Randvi had to tell herself to look away, to not linger overlong so as to not arouse suspicion, to not give away the feelings that were trying to free themselves from her chest.

Those feelings were not new and Randvi had known of them some time ago. They were feelings she could not ever say, not to her, not to this woman who was clan and friend and the best part of home. For this place could never be home without Eivor in it, or the knowledge that Eivor would return.

She was also a woman bound by honor, who would never betray her brother.

The twist of sadness in Randvi’s chest when she thought of Sigurd and Eivor was not new.

So she was ready with her familiar smile and greeting when Eivor reached her side, but before she could speak, Eivor said without preamble, “Randvi, I have something for you.”

Randvi cocked her head, wondering what it might be. She knew Eivor had been out hunting for several days and had come back empty handed. It seemed that she had found what she had been looking for, but Randvi could not think of what it might be.

“What is it?”

Eivor smiled, her grin wide. She pulled out a small parcel wrapped in soft cloth and handed it to Randvi.

Carefully, Randvi pulled back the cloth to reveal a beautiful length of fox fur, expertly dressed. Its color was red and vibrant, and it was soft and thick to the touch. Randvi ran her fingers over it in pleasure, then looked quizzically at Eivor who was looking at her as if she should know what this was for.

The look on Eivor’s face softened. “For you, Randvi. To replace the fur on your cloak.”

Oh.

Oh, this was new.

Randvi couldn’t speak for a moment, so touched was she that Eivor had gone through the trouble. She had meant what she’d said, replacing the cloak was something they didn’t need to do right now, but she had missed it these last few days. Missed the comforting feel of it around her shoulders, keeping her warm on cold days. She had also missed the memories that came with it, one of the few pieces she had left from a life before her marriage, and for that reason alone she would have replaced it.

But Eivor had done this for her, without being asked, for no reason that Randvi that could see. 

Randvi didn’t know that her heart could pound even harder in her chest when she looked at Eivor. Didn’t know that the warmth she felt could grow even warmer.

Oh, Eivor. Randvi looked at the other woman’s face and wished that she could tell her, wished that she could show her, how touched she was.

Eivor was smiling, clearly pleased. “I have pleased you then?”

“You do,” Randvi said, holding the fur close. “You have. Thank you, Eivor.”

She wished, how she wished she could reach through the space between them and draw her close. To touch her and plant her lips on Eivor’s cheek. To tell her all that she had been feeling and more. 

But she could not, and so she did not do any of those things.

But she wanted to.

She and Eivor said nothing for a long moment that seemed to stretch on. There was a softness in Eivor’s eyes, a fondness which she reserved for a special few. It had always heartened her, knowing that she was highly regarded in Eivor’s life. But the way that Eivor looked at her now, not just with fondness, but with intent, that was different. It almost seemed as if she had something she wanted to say, something that she was holding back, and Randvi did not know what to make of it. 

It was Eivor who ended the moment, clearing her throat and leaning back. Only then did Randvi realize that they had drawn nearer to each other, almost close enough to touch, and she took a step back before her traitorous body did something she would regret. 

“I must be off,” Eivor said in her husky voice. It often sent shivers down Randvi’s spine when she spoke like that and she had become adept at hiding it. She used that skill now.

“Until later then, Eivor.” Randvi replied.

Randvi watched Eivor walk away, the words and feelings she had wanted to express safely locked away. It was enough, this friendship that they had. More than enough.

If anyone ever noticed how she would occasionally touch the soft new fur on her cloak with a wistful smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes, they did not comment on it, and Randvi would not have volunteered it.

This feeling was hers alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this fic has been dancing in my head for days. I hope that you liked it.
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Take care and stay safe. 
> 
> Kitsilver


	2. wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heart did not do politics like the head. And despite repeated admonishments, her heart wanted what it wanted.

Eivor always had a way with animals. It was something that came easily to her, how Synin responded to her call or how easily she could soothe a spooked horse or how friendly she was with the village dogs.

But it still came as a surprise to Randvi when Eivor returned home from an “urgent” request to assist Knud and the other children, with a new companion at her side.

A wolf. A large, shaggy haired, white wolf.

Randvi raised a brow; Eivor shrugged and looked sheepish, an odd look on her often stoic face. Randvi felt that familiar tug on her heart, fondness paired with slight vexation, but she steeled her features and told herself to be stern.

“It is a wolf, is it not?” Randvi asked.

“It is,” Eivor answered, though the easy way she reached down and ruffled the dog’s – the wolf’s – ears, and the way the wolf seemed to lean into her touch, seemed to give lie to her words.

“How is it so tame?” Randvi asked incredulously.

It was ridiculous really. Eivor, fierce and terrible drengr that she was, was charming in her own way. Randvi was well aware of that. But to tame a wild animal like this, surely it could not be so easy. 

“I do not know,” Eivor said with a laugh. “She just followed me out of the cage. I told her to leave and she ran off, but she returned when we were attacked by other wolves. She has not left my side since.” There was pride and fondness in Eivor’s gaze when she looked at the wild animal.

Randvi sighed, already estimating how much silver it would cost to compensate the villagers whose chickens or pigs would inevitably get eaten by the animal. “I suppose you have a name for her, then?”

“Wolf.”

The wolf barked in response, tongue lolling out of its mouth as it looked at Eivor.

“That’s so…plain,” Randvi said.

“The children wanted to name her Mouse or Chewy or Dwolfg,” Eivor replied. “Wolf seemed to be the better option.”

Randvi chuckled. “I suppose so.” She met Eivor’s gaze and tried her most stern expression. “Please just make sure she doesn’t eat too many of the village animals? We need the chickens and the pigs and the horses. Whole.”

“Do not fret,” Eivor replied, “I will make sure she is not hungry. Come, Wolf.” She patted her leg and Wolf walked to her side as if she had always been trained to do so. “Let us go hunting.” Together they loped out of the longhouse, lean and long-legged warrior and shaggy long-legged creature. Both wild in their own way, both somehow tamed.

Randvi couldn’t help but smile as she watched them go.

***

For all her gifts at diplomacy and negotiation, for all her skill with words, Randvi always had difficulty putting to words just what Eivor meant to her.

She was beautiful, a blind person could see that, with a striking presence that seemed to charge the very air as she stepped into a room. Randvi would never forget the first time she saw her, standing at the dock in Fornberg to greet her on the day of her wedding, this tall, blonde vikingr with piercing eyes and broad shoulders. Who moved like a warrior and stood with pride, a leader of her clan. But when she looked at Randvi and smiled, and that hard face softened into something…else. Randvi had to smile in turn, and the warmth in her chest that seemed to appear whenever she beheld Eivor began that day and never failed to return.

It was just friendship and fondness, Randvi told herself. She was married to Eivor’s brother to secure peace between their clans, a peace that if broken threatened the security and safety of them all. It was not a bad life, and Sigurd was not a bad man, even if he was an absent husband. There were worse fates than being married to a man she barely knew. She was free to do as she wished and spend her time with whom she wished. To live a meaningful life in service to her new clan.

Was it any wonder that she was drawn to the charismatic and striking sister of her new husband?

Who fought like Tyr reborn.

Who could drink like a fish.

Who could tell tales with the best of the skalds, and fight with her words in flyting as well as she fought with her axe.

But who could turn soft at a glance, especially when she looked at Randvi. For all her hardness and ferocity, for all the bruising ways she sometimes acted around the men, there was a certain gentleness with which Eivor treated Randvi. When Randvi missed her family, it was Eivor to whom she turned to with most of her stories, not Sigurd. He was gone, and she didn’t know him well enough to share this part of herself. But Eivor knew her, listened to her, and shared stories of her childhood as well.

Eivor the Wolf-Kissed had not always been the finest fighter, the prized drengr in her clan.

Eivor told her stories of learning to wield an axe and shield from her mother and her father. Of sitting on her father’s knee and looking up at the stars, of being told stories of the giant Ymir, and how sparks from Muspelheim became the stars in the night sky and the sun in the day. Eivor had reached out to those stars and in her dreams, walked the rainbow path to the land of the gods.

Even as a child, Eivor had dreamed of things bigger than herself. But only as a child, when her parents still lived, did she have this sense of wonder, this innocence about the state of the world. When her parents died, that changed. Her father’s death on his knees, his axe thrown to the ground, forever marked her. _She_ would not die on her knees, with no weapon in hand. When her day came, she would die with a battle cry on her lips and the blood of her enemies on her blade. She would meet the Valkyries with her head held high and be taken to the hall of the slain where she would drink and fight until the end of our days.

How could Randvi not be drawn to her?

The heart did not do politics like the head. And despite repeated admonishments, her heart wanted what it wanted.

And she wanted Eivor.

***

The sun had long since set and the rhythms of the village had slowed as people settled into their beds. But light still shone from the room where Randvi often stayed up late, sitting at her desk or pondering the maps on the table. Eivor, newly returned from a raid, was eager to see her.

Eivor was always eager to see her, whenever she spent time away.

She had long since stopped wondering why that was the case. 

But when Eivor entered the room, she stopped, frozen, because Randvi was not looking at her maps or working at her desk.

Randvi was asleep.

Sitting at her desk with her head curled in her arms, like a child who had fallen asleep out of exhaustion, wherever she happened to find herself. A sheet of parchment lay beneath her cheek and a bit of ink stained her skin; a quill lay abandoned by her hand.

It seemed to be a list of Randvi’s tasks for the next day:

_Rowan wants more salt for the horses_

_Speak to Petra about grouse_

_Metron made good pie – ask for the recipe_

_Yanli preparing fish for the feast next week – secure three large fish for Nali_

That last made Eivor smile. Randvi had looked doubtful when Eivor first brought Nali home, saying that she would make a fine companion on her longship during their travels. The cat had earned her keep, keeping the longship free of the rats that might otherwise infest it. She had also grown on Randvi and it was becoming more common to find Nali in Randvi’s room, or at her desk, whenever Eivor was in Ravensthorpe. She had thought that Nali was looking particularly well fed lately, and now she knew the cause.

Randvi.

Her name whispered across Eivor’s mind without speaking it aloud. A name that felt like a caress on her skin.

What she felt for Randvi was more than friendship, more than fondness. Eivor had known this for a long time. But she kept that part of her heart quiet, kept the feeling unspoken, even in the recesses of her mind.

But seeing Randvi like this, soft and quiet in sleep, so different from the intensity and focus she had during the day, stirred the part of her heart that washed her in warmth and yearning. The desire to touch, to hold, was so strong.

Eivor took a deep breath and reached out a hand to Randvi’s shoulder. She shook it gently. “Randvi, it is time for bed.”

Randvi frowned as if dreaming, but otherwise did not stir. Eivor called her name again, shook her a little more firmly, but Randvi still did not wake. Eivor stood undecided for a moment, torn between what she wanted and what she thought was right, then decided it stained no one’s honor to make sure that Randvi did not wake up with a painful neck after falling asleep at her desk. If she would not wake, Eivor would simply bring her to bed.

Eivor put her arms around Randvi carefully, lifted her from her seat, and cradled her to her chest. The walk to Randvi’s room was not far, but Eivor’s steps were slow and unhurried. She did not want to jostle and wake the person in her arms, was what she told herself. But in truth, she was simply prolonging the moment before she had to let her go. Randvi’s head rested against her shoulder, her hand on Eivor’s chest. She smelled of wood smoke and pine and something else uniquely her. It felt comfortable to hold her like this, comforting, and right.

This was where she was supposed to be, part of her heart whispered. This was who she was meant to be with.

Just as she had always done, Eivor took that part of her heart and silenced it.

It could not be.

Eivor lay Randvi in her bed, removed her boots and cloak, then tucked the fur blanket around her. Randvi kept sleeping, her face still and peaceful. Eivor stood at her side, not wanting to go. 

In that moment, Randvi called her name. Eyes still closed, whispering her name as if across a dream. Eivor knelt down so her face was level with Randvi’s.

“Yes?” she whispered.

Randvi’s eyes were still closed, and she was still mostly asleep, but she smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Me too,” Eivor said, throat thick with emotion. But Randvi was already asleep, returned to the world of dreams once more. Eivor took a deep breath, drinking in the sight of her face. Then she put two fingers to her lips, kissed them, and gently placed her fingers on Randvi’s cheek. “Goodnight, Randvi.”

She caressed her cheek, just once. Then she stood and walked away. Leaving part of her heart behind.

It belonged to Randvi anyway. Fitting then, that part of it would always stay with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pining. Can you feel it? I did not expect the chapter to unfold quite this way, but I really like it and I hope you did too. Thanks for reading! Love seeing your comments.


	3. fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the best warriors get injured in battle. This was only a scratch, or so Eivor said. It was not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for descriptions of violence above the break. Note the rating change.

Eivor was many things. But what she was, down to her bones, was a warrior. A drengr worthy of Odin himself. An absolute bear in battle, fierce and horrible. 

There was none who could beat her, Randvi thought with pride.

They fought side by side to defend Ravensthorpe from the Norseman who had attacked them in the night. From the moment the horn sounded, telling them of danger and calling them to battle, Eivor did what she had always done.

Blood spattered her face as she cleaved a man’s skull.

There was a sickening crunch as she stomped on another man’s neck, crushing his windpipe and leaving him to die gasping for breath.

Her axe shattered the shield of another before felling him with repeated blows to the head.

“Does this satisfy your thirst for battle, Randvi?” She called out once. Glorious and blood spattered, panting in the night.

“It does!” Randvi called back, her blood running high with the thrill of battle, something she had not known for far too long. It called to her, just as Eivor called to her. She was a warrior still, despite the long days spent inside with her maps and letters, and she was born for this as her mother was.

The battle was nearly over and the few enemies who remained would soon be cut down. When Randvi caught a motion in the shadows.

“Eivor!” she cried out.

Eivor spun in time and the arrow hit her shoulder and not her heart. Still, the impact jerked her body backward and she grunted in pain. Then with an enraged roar she threw her axe and the man died with the blade between his eyes.

“Are you all right?” Randvi asked.

Eivor, with blood and muck on her face and the arrow protruding from her shoulder, only grinned. “Just a scratch, Randvi,” she said in her husky voice. She broke the arrow shaft in half. Later, Randvi stood by as she pushed the arrow through her shoulder. Birna picked up a knife that had been heating on the fire, its blade red-hot. Eivor hissed as the blade met her flesh, the smell of it sharp and pungent. But when it was over, the wound had stopped bleeding and it looked like it would be just another scar. One of many to decorate Eivor’s body and bear witness to the battles she had fought

Just another scar.

That was all it was supposed to be.

***

“Why is she not getting better?” Randvi said, her voice hard.

Eivor lay in her bed, sweat glistening on her forehead, her eyes squeezed shut as if to ward off the pain. The wound on her shoulder was hot and angry, red streaks beginning to appear beneath the bandage. Her skin burned. She shivered beneath the furs, sleeping fitfully. 

She looked small in her tunic. Helpless. Randvi’s heart twisted and she glared at Valka.

The seeress looked at her coolly, betraying nothing. “You know what wound fever is, Randvi.”

“Yes,” she snapped. “And I know we can heal it. Why is her fever not breaking?”

Valka shrugged. “I have given her the tea that we use for fever. We have cleaned the wound.”

“And it is not working, clearly.”

“We need supplies.” Valka said. “Herbs. This one isn’t working to control her fever but it is the only one I’ve found in this land. There are others, but I do not know if they grow here.”

“Can you give me a drawing or description of these herbs?” Valka nodded. “Give them to me tonight or tomorrow, whenever you can. I will give it to Yanli and to my other merchant contacts. They will find it. What else?”

Vinegar. Garlic. Honey. Salt and water. Moss and cloth. Those things were easy. But a distillation of pine resin -- Randvi’s brow furrowed as she wrote that down.

“I can make it if it cannot be bought,” Valka said. “But that will take time. I must find the right tree and harvest the sap. That can take a few hours. Then the distillation and the cooling, another few hours.”

“How long in total?”

“A day, perhaps,” Valka said after a moment. “I can start tomorrow at dawn.”

Randvi looked at Eivor, felt the cold grip of fear around her heart. She had been wounded only a day, and the fever and the chills had already become so much worse. She bit her lip, worrying.

“Will it come in time?” she whispered.

“Gods willing,” Valka said. The seeress was studying her now. “You are concerned. More than you are for any of our other wounded warriors.”

“She is our best,” Randvi said offhandedly, still looking at Eivor. 

“She is,” Valka said slowly. “And is it for that reason alone that you care so much? Or is because she is your husband’s sister –” Randvi turned to stare at Valka, who was looking at her with eyes that said she knew too much – “that you care. So much.”

“Valka –” Randvi began, anger and yes, fear, clouding her voice. She had tried to hide it, had tried not to let it show. Not for Sigurd’s sake, but for Eivor’s. She knew Eivor cared for her, but she knew as well that Eivor loved her brother. Randvi did not want her to have to choose between her brother and her honor, or Randvi. In truth, Randvi wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Valka shook her head. “No need to answer that, Jarlskona. I have answer enough. And your secret, such as it is, stays with me.”

Randvi nodded, her throat tight. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “If that is all you need, I will have this list sent out at dawn. You will begin preparations for the distillation tomorrow. With luck, we will have what we need in a day’s time.”

At that Eivor groaned and turned restlessly on the bed. Randvi went to her, checking that the bandage had not come loose. Then she tucked the hair back from her face, the blonde hair matted with sweat, and put a gentle hand on her cheek. Eivor turned toward her touch, eyes still closed. The twist in Randvi’s heart, that familiar longing now shot through with fear, twisted even tighter. “What can I do until then?” Randvi asked.

“Just stay with her,” Valka said. “Try to get her to drink, water or tea, no mead. No food. Clean the wound once every few hours. And wait. That is all you can do for now.”

Randvi took a deep breath, steadying herself. “All right. I will stay with her, get her whatever she needs.” Her eyes met Valka’s. “We cannot let her die, Valka. It would be too great a loss to the clan should Eivor die.”

_And it would be too great a loss for me._

Randvi did not even want to think about what life would be like without Eivor in it.

Valka nodded and left the room. Leaving Randvi alone with Eivor to make it through the long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was intended as two parts and the second part will be released soon. Thanks for reading. And I love your comments, they really make me want to keep writing.


	4. foolish

The fire crackled in the hearth. Randvi sat next to Eivor on the bed, wiping the sweat from her brow with a cloth. Eivor lay still. With shallow breathing and furrowed brow, skin warm and damp. She had been like this for hours.

Randvi dipped the cloth in a bowl of cool water and brushed it over her face. Over the sharp lines of her cheekbones. The scar that slashed her face. The rough skin where the wolf had bitten her neck and given her a name -- _Wolf-Kissed_. Randvi knew her face. After so many years of looking, after so many glances that would linger just a little too long, Randvi knew her face.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

She wanted more.

She wanted Eivor to open her eyes and look at her with those gray-blue eyes that looked like the sea after a storm. Wanted to see her best a clansman in a drinking contest or an archery contest and grin like a proud child. Wanted to listen as she told tales by the fire, warrior skald that she was, and tell tales of giants and gods and men.

Her voice was low and rough. But when she told a story, or sang a song, Randvi was not the only one who was captivated by the sound.

Randvi wanted those moments again. Wanted to hear Eivor say her name, in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Wanted to feel her touch, even just when their hands would brush.

She wanted more. So much more.

Randvi caressed her cheek, then leaned forward to kiss her brow.

“Come back to me, Eivor,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

***

It was the sound of her name that woke her.

Randvi was sitting in a chair by the bed, head tilted to one side. She had draped a blanket over her lap to ward off the chill. She had not meant to sleep, only rest for a moment.

But when she opened her eyes, there was Eivor looking at her. Not with the glazed eyes of one trapped in a fever, dazed and unaware. But it was her. Really her.

Randvi gasped and threw off the blanket in her haste. “Eivor, thank the gods,” she said, kneeling beside her.

“Randvi…” Eivor struggled to get the word out, working her throat like someone whose throat was dry.

“Let me help.” Randvi helped Eivor sit, supporting her while she drank from a cup of water. She was shivering, her skin still warm with fever and flushed with sweat, but her broad frame shaking from chills. Randvi rubbed her back and shoulders, but when the shaking continued, she took another blanket and wrapped her up from behind. Holding her tight, in a way she had never allowed herself to before. She felt the warmth from Eivor’s skin, felt the solid steady weight of her, and despite the seriousness of it all, felt the glow of happiness in her chest. Eivor had returned, free of the fever dreams, at least for now. 

The shivering seemed to slow. Eivor looked over her shoulder, a familiar smile on her face. “That feels nice. Will you be my blanket from now on, Randvi?”

Randvi chuckled, ducking her head by Eivor’s shoulder, a flush rising to her cheeks. “I do not think I would make a good blanket,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I’m…somewhat bony.”

_Bony?_ Randvi wanted to kick herself. Of all the things she could have said, bony? Odin forgive her.

But Eivor chuckled, making her heart stutter when she brought a hand to Randvi’s arm and leaned further into her embrace. “I would not say so,” she said.

“How do you feel?”

Eivor groaned, setting the cup aside and leaning her full weight against her. “Like my shoulder has been kicked by a horse and my skin as if I bathed in the fires of Muspelheim.” She frowned. “But I’m cold still.”

“Would you like to lie down again?” Randvi asked. “I could build up the fire, get more blankets.”

Eivor hesitated, then shook her head. “That would probably be best.”

Carefully, Randvi helped Eivor lay back down, ignoring the twinge of regret at letting her go. Eivor was looking at her ruefully, and if she did not know better, she would think Eivor was regretting it too. She piled more blankets on top of her and built up the fire until the room was a bit warmer than she would like. But Eivor said she was comfortable. 

“Let me check your wound.” 

The wound itself was not large, a few finger widths across Eivor’s shoulder. But it was still angry and red, with streaks of dark red coming from it. More than a few hours ago. But no smell yet, no sign of a wound that had gone completely bad. Not yet.

“How is it?” 

“Not good,” Randvi said. “But we have time.” She sat beside Eivor and outlined her plan with Valka to get the supplies she needed. All the while, her hand was clasped to Eivor’s on the bed, and they held each other casually, comfortably, as if they done this a thousand times before. She didn’t know what had come over her, but her normal inclination to keep some distance between them and avoid touching her lest it become obvious why she was touching her, had faded away. She told herself it was just the fever, that it was all right as long as she was taking care of her, and did not acknowledge how right it felt to simply hold her like this.

“How long has it been?”

“Almost a day and a half.” Randvi looked toward the window and saw the dark sky lightening to gray. It would be dawn soon, and there were preparations to make. Valka had given her a description of the herbs she needed and a rough drawing for each. Randvi had made several copies of the descriptions, but needed Holger to make copies of the drawings. Likely she would need to stay and badger him to finish them quickly so she could send out her lists to Yanli. Valka would be getting ready soon to find and harvest the pine sap for her distillation. With luck, they would have it all by nightfall.

With luck.

Lost in thought, Randvi realized she had said nothing for some time and was just sitting there, idly toying with Eivor’s hand in hers. She looked up, guilty, to find Eivor looking at her with an amused expression.

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t sure what for.

“No, it’s all right,” Eivor said. “You had that look on your face when you are thinking about something. I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

“I have a certain look on my face?”

“Yes,” Eivor said. “You get a certain wrinkle here…” She touched Randvi’s forehead gently, between her brows. “And when you are worried, your mouth tilts down here.” Her fingers trailed down Randvi’s face and rested at the corner of her lips. Her voice trailed off and her eyes met Randvi’s in a look that was heavy-lidded and inscrutable. Randvi felt her breath trapped in her chest, unable to look away. Eivor never touched her like this.

If she did not know better.

If Eivor were not lying in a sickbed flushed with fever…

But she was.

Randvi held Eivor’s hand to her face, taking pleasure in the warmth and feel of her, then taking a deep breath and putting her hand back on the bed. Reluctantly she pulled her hands away and Eivor did not reach for her, though her hand twitched as if she would.

“I must go.”

“I know. The business of the clan cannot wait.”

Randvi took a breath, staring at Eivor’s face.

Did she really not know?

“For you, Eivor,” she said slowly. “All that I do today is for you.”

She watched understanding dawn on Eivor’s face. Watched her eyes soften and her smile tremble.

“Oh,” she said. “Thank you, Randvi.” 

It took all of Randvi’s strength not to reach for her hand, and kiss it, and tell her that if she wished, everything she ever did would be for her. That she would take care of her, and care for her, if only she wished it.

But that would be the height of foolishness. And she did not have the time for foolishness.

So she stood and said goodbye, and told Eivor that she would send someone to sit with her in case there was need. That she would be back soon, and was there anything she needed before she left. Then she walked away, heart pounding in her chest.

But she looked at Eivor once more when she reached door, not wanting to leave without a second glance. Eivor was sitting up in bed, propped against the headboard and pillows, and she was looking at Randvi as if she too couldn’t bear to look away.

The look on her face made Randvi gasp.

The naked longing there, the softness and yearning, was everything Randvi felt and everything she thought she had to hide.

All that she felt, Eivor felt it too.

That feeling she thought was hers alone, was shared by Eivor too.

Randvi left before her furiously beating heart and escalating breath could prompt her to do something utterly foolish.

But she was smiling, so widely, that her cheeks hurt.

Eivor felt it too.

Whatever that meant, they would talk about it after.

Eivor had to get healthy first. Randvi would allow nothing less. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supposed to be two parts, but it kept going, so there will be a part three. Thank you so much for your comments everyone! Knowing that you like this story, that it has touched you in some way, means so much. Thank you. 
> 
> Merry Christmas everyone! And Happy Holidays. 
> 
> Kitsilver


	5. when the time comes

The herbs did not come.

The distillation of pine resin was not yet ready.

And Eivor’s fever continued to climb.

“What is taking so long?” Randvi asked, her voice low and furious. She and Valka stood outside of the room where Eivor lay. “It has been two days Valka.”

The seeress looked at her coolly as always. “It took longer than expected to find the right tree. Then collecting the sap and distilling it, all in this cooler weather, took longer than expected. It cannot be rushed, Jarlskona.”

Randvi closed her eyes, trying not to slam her fist on the table. “You’ve seen her wound,” she said. “It’s getting worse.” The angry red had turned deep and dark, and the wound had taken on a smell like something rancid. Randvi was no healer, but she knew what this meant. Had seen wound rot tear through a man’s flesh, knew what the eventual progression would be.

Death.

Or the loss of a limb.

The wound was high on Eivor’s shoulder and close to her chest. It was the arm she used to wield the axe; if she lost it, she would never fight again.

_What would you be if you were not a warrior?_

_I don’t know._

Fighting was the essence of who Eivor was. It was who she was born to be. Valhalla was her destiny and that meant dying on the field, not sick in bed.

And yet.

Randvi bowed her head, swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat.

She would do it, if it meant saving her life. In her mind’s eye, she could see those angry red marks spreading from the wound in her shoulder toward her heart. There was poison there, as surely as if the arrow had been tipped with it, and if it was allowed to fester and grow it would kill her.

Her life or her limb.

If they could not stop the rot, they would have no choice.

Valka put a hand on her shoulder and Randvi looked up in surprise. Valka was not one to offer comfort.

“All is not lost. She has time.”

“But how much?”

Valka just stared at her; Randvi knew the answer. They had a few days, at most. 

“Be strong, Jarlskona. I will check again on the distillation. You get those herbs.”

Randvi nodded. She looked one more time to where Eivor lay, then left with Valka.

***

The day dragged on and on. It was as if nothing existed for Randvi but caring for Eivor, wiping the sweat from her skin and trying to keep her body cool, even as the fever rose. Coaxing her to drink water that she would take in small sips, eyes bleary. It was getting harder for her to sit on her own and she was growing weaker. Randvi tried to keep that thought at bay, forced herself to focus on what was before her.

Care for Eivor. Get supplies. There was nothing else.

***

Randvi removed the cloth covering Eivor’s wound, nose wrinkling at the smell. It smelled like rot and looked like angry, pummeled meat, with pus leaking from the wound. Eivor was asleep, thankfully, senses dulled with a potion that Valka had made. It would keep her asleep, hopefully, as Randvi did the painful work of cleaning her wound.

When she was done, and the wound wrapped once again, she looked up to see Eivor looking right at her. Awake and aware, for who knows how long.

“Eivor!” she said in surprise. Eivor had not stirred, given no hint that she had woken.

Eivor’s lips twitched in a faint smile, eyes amused, but her lips pulled tight in a way that told Randvi she was in pain.

Randvi rose from her knees by the bed. “Shall I get more of Valka’s potion for you?”

It would ease her pain and help her sleep. It was the only thing she had found to ease her discomfort.

But Eivor shook her head, her look resolute. Randvi, nerves already worn thin by the lack of sleep and worry, felt a flash of annoyance at the stubborn vikingr.

“Why not?” she said, her voice sharp.

“It dulls my mind,” Eivor said, frowning. “And it gives me strange dreams. I don’t want to lose myself in them.”

Randvi sighed and knelt once more at Eivor’s side. “I’m sorry, Eivor. If you don’t want it. It’s just…we have nothing else.” She tried to keep the worry and frustration from her voice. She knew she failed.

Eivor covered her hand with her own and squeezed it gently. “I know.”

They stared at each other for a long moment and Randvi wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. It felt like the truth wanted to bubble out of her, for her to say the words that she had been wanting to say for far too long.

But part of her was afraid to say it.

Didn’t want to say it like this.

Eivor would be the first to break the silence. “Randvi,” she said slowly, carefully. “If the time comes, I don’t want you to take my arm.”

All the breath left Randvi in a quiet rush.

“Why?” she said, voice shaking in disbelief.

“I cannot fight without it.”

“It might save your life.” Randvi took Eivor’s hand in both of hers. “Eivor, it might be the _only_ thing that saves your life.”

“Randvi…” Eivor’s gaze searched hers. “What would I be if I were not a warrior?”

 _You would still be you,_ her heart wanted to say.

Eivor was so much more than her ability to fight, to wield an axe or a bow. She was a leader, firm but fair. She was loyal, fiercely so, to clan and family. She had a wonderfully dry sense of humor, and a quick wit, and a way with words that was different than Randvi. When Randvi spoke it was measured and careful, and in negotiations she could wield words that were as sharp and pointed as any weapon. But Eivor could tell stories that would summon giants and build bridges of rainbows and make you hear the clang of Thor’s mighty hammer, see the awesome height and breadth of Yggdrasil as if you walked amongst its branches. She was a warrior-skald in truth, and her words had been a gift to the clan on many a long night when they gathered around the fire in the longhouse.

They needed her, more than ever, in this strange and hostile land.

Randvi needed her.

Eivor was still looking at her and waiting for an answer. “You are more to the clan than your sword arm, Eivor. We need you.” She took a deep breath and told her the truth.

“ _I_ need you.”

The last was said in a whisper and seemed to linger in the quiet room. Randvi held her breath as Eivor searched her face, and the look there, the almost shy smile on her face. Oh, it pulled on Randvi’s heart and filled it to bursting. 

“I need you, too,” Eivor said.

Randvi laughed and felt like she might cry. It was so simple, those words. They said everything and not nearly enough. She lifted Eivor’s hand to her lips and kissed it, pressing her lips to Eivor’s skin once, twice. Eivor’s gaze never left hers and the warmth in her eyes and the smile on her face made Randvi feel so warm inside, in a place she feared would be cold forever if Eivor were gone. 

“Randvi, you know that I have always…”

Randvi surprised even herself when she put a finger to Eivor’s lips and halted the words that she longed to hear. “Eivor, please, I want to have this conversation. I have things to tell you, and things I hope to hear from you. But not like this.” She shook her head. “Not with you so sick. I want you to tell me later, when you are healthy again, and not now as if…”

_As if you will not have the chance to tell me again._

The joy that had filled her at Eivor’s words was gone, choked by fear. Eivor was still sick, and if they could not get the supplies in time, there would only be two choices for them. If they waited too long, there would be no choice at all. Fear gripped her heart and stole her breath.

Eivor frowned, her brows wrinkling, as she drew Randvi’s hand from her face and held it to her chest.

“Randvi, do not mourn me yet.”

Randvi barked out a laugh, surprised, and wiped her eyes. They were wet. “I’m not mourning you, you foolish drengr. I just don’t want you to die.” She looked at Eivor squarely. “Will you let me take the arm, if I must?”

Eivor took a deep breath, thinking about it. “I could still die even if the arm were taken.” That were true. They had both seen men die, from pain or loss of blood, they could not say.

“But there is a chance you could live. And only if we do not wait too long.”

“Is that time coming soon, then?”

Randvi had to think, trying to remember what Valka had last said, thinking about how the wound had looked a few minutes ago. Then she shook her head. “I think we still have time, though the window is getting smaller. Your wound is worse, Eivor. And your fever, you can’t last for too many more days like this.”

Looking at her now, Randvi knew that was true. Eivor was still flushed with fever, her wound still rank. She was weak from days spent in bed with only water and tea to drink, too sick to eat. Eivor was speaking to her now with sound mind and clear voice, but she had been lost to her fever dreams for hours before. Randvi knew that it would not be long before she slipped back into those dreams again. In pain.

They had to get those supplies and soon. 

“Let us hope it does not come to that,” Eivor said grimly. “Randvi, you know I do not want to die. But neither do I want to meet Odin with one arm.”

Randvi stared at her. 

Was she jesting?

She _was._ There was a tiny quirk to her lips that gave her away. 

Randvi loved this woman. She really did. But she wanted to hit her sometimes.

“You foolish drengr, do not jest about this!”

“It’s the truth!” Eivor said with a laugh, lifting Randvi’s spirits for a moment. “This is not how I plan to die, sick and in bed. This is not the destiny I see for myself.”

But then her look became serious, her brow furrowed and that smile was gone. She looked at Randvi with the gravity of one who was speaking an oath, or asking for one. “I do not want to lose my arm. I want you to wait, for as long as you can, before taking it. If the time comes, and you think I might still live, then do it. Even if I do not have the words to tell you.”

Before Randvi could breathe a sigh of relief, Eivor continued.

“But if by then you think it will not help, and it looks like I will die anyway, then let me go.” Randvi sucked in a breath, the words slicing into her like ice-cold daggers. Eivor’s gaze held hers. “Put an axe in my hand, and let me go.”

Randvi closed her eyes, gathering herself, then nodded. “I will, Eivor. If the time comes.” Then she slanted Eivor a look. “You know I will do everything in my power to make sure that time never comes.”

“I know,” Eivor said with a fond smile. “My fierce jarlskona –” the way she said that word, coupled with _my_ , made Randvi shiver in pleasure. How was it that her title sounded different coming from Eivor’s lips than someone else? “I have no doubt you would fight the Valkyries themselves if you could.”

“I would,” Randvi said, taking Eivor’s hands in hers.

She would fight the gods and the fates themselves to keep Eivor safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes, part 1: “Nornir”would have been more appropriate for Norse mythology, instead of “fates” _._ But I used fatesto avoid confusion, so no one would have to look up a word in the last line of the chapter, and because they roughly correspond to each other.
> 
> Author’s notes, part 2: 
> 
> There will be a part four to this arc. I think it will be the last one? This fic was supposed to be a collection of one shots, and now features 2 one shots and a multi-chapter story.
> 
> I didn’t expect that either. But Eivor and Randvi had more to say.
> 
> Thank you, dear reader, for coming along for the ride. =] Your comments and kudos and subscriptions have really encouraged me to return to these characters and to this world. I wouldn't have written this much if not for you. Thank you.


	6. until the morning

In the end, it was always bandits.

Randvi was sitting by Eivor’s side, holding her hand and speaking quietly to her, when she heard the news.

In the four days since Eivor’s injury, Randvi and Valka had gathered the supplies they needed except for one – herbs to bring down the fever that Valka insisted they have before they try to clean the wound. The common herbs had already failed. All their hopes rested on these rare herbs, found by chance in a market in Lunden, but the merchants had been waylaid on their return and the goods now lay in a bandit camp.

Randvi waited until the scout left the room to vent her frustration.

“Fuck!”

She rarely cursed in the presence of others. It was never wise to show your hand, to reveal your frustration and anger during a negotiation. Even among friends, Randvi tended to keep a cooler head, to stay calm when tempers flared.

But four days of watching Eivor grow weak and racked with fever, four days of unending fear and anxiety, had worn through her patience.

Eivor, lying in bed and sick as she was, still managed to look at her with an amused and cheeky expression.

“Do not start with me,” Randvi said, glaring.

If anything, that smile only grew. How the woman managed to keep her sense of humor, even now, escaped her. “No, just…bandits, is it? If only there was a drengr who could meet them. But, sadly…” she gestured vaguely toward her injured arm. 

Randvi rolled her eyes – something else she rarely did – and let loose a low and fervent, “Ugh!” Then she fixed Eivor with a firm expression. “There is nothing for it then. I must go to fetch these supplies myself.”

Eivor frowned, amusement gone. “Must you go yourself?”

“I cannot risk anything going wrong, like the supplies being lost or destroyed during the attack. I must know where they are and keep them safe.” 

“Be careful, Randvi,” Eivor said, gray eyes serious. 

“I will.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Randvi searched Eivor’s face, at features that had become as familiar and dear to her as her own, and found concern there, but also a quiet confidence. Eivor trusted her to do what had to be done. Randvi herself had no doubts. If bandits were all that stood between her and a way to save Eivor, she would go through them a hundred times over. But it still warmed her to see the belief that Eivor had in her.

Eivor saw her, not as a table-maiden, as she had once jokingly referred to herself. Not as the staunch and stoic woman most of their clan would see. Eivor saw her for who she was, and believed in her. 

Randvi could not put to words how much that meant to her.

She took a deep breath, then leaned forward to drop a kiss on Eivor’s forehead. Just a brush of her lips on Eivor’s skin, innocent but intimate. Something Randvi had done before but not like this, not with Eivor awake to know it. It was a sign, a promise, of things Randvi had not said but _would_ say, she swore to herself, if Eivor would only live.

Eivor had closed her eyes during the kiss, and when she opened them again, Randvi knew she understood. It filled her heart, seeing the affection and deep emotion in Eivor’s eyes. She could feel what Eivor felt for her. She wanted to hear the words.

But she did not want to say it, and she did not want to hear it, until Eivor was safe.

“Do not die while I am away,” she said, her voice quiet. “Try not to get worse either.”

Eivor took her hand and held it to her chest. Randvi imagined she could feel her heart beating, strong and steady beneath her hand.

“I will be here.”

It was an oath that Eivor would fight to keep, against a fever and a wound that would take her life. Randvi must fight now too, with axe and shield, and risk her own life to keep Eivor safe.

It was a bargain she would make a hundred thousand times over. To keep Eivor safe.

***

When Randvi returned hours later, night had nearly fallen. Her axe had been wiped clean, but the sheen of blood was still on it. Red marked her face, spattered with blood, splashes of it across her chest and arms. She walked with a slight hitch, pained from a blow to her side that had splintered her shield.

But when she walked into Eivor’s room and Eivor looked at her with eyes full of concern, Randvi went straight to her and took her hand. “It is all right,” she murmured. “Most of it is not mine.”

“A fierce battle then?” Valka asked, sitting by Eivor’s side. “Did you get what we needed?”

“Yes, and yes.” Randvi said, dropping a small leather bag on Valka’s lap. A small, precious bundle of herbs inside. “I am ready to begin whenever you are.”

“Wash yourself first, Jarlskona.” There was a small, amused smile on Valka’s face. “Eivor can wait a few moments, and better that than having you bleed all over the wound we hope to clean.”

Randvi nodded. Eivor still had not spoken, but there was worry written on her face. Randvi smiled, felt that fondness in her chest that always seemed to appear when she looked at Eivor, and cupped her cheek. “I am alright, I promise,” she said. Only when Eivor nodded did Randvi leave the room.

It was the work of a few minutes to wash her face and hair, change her clothes and scrub the blood and muck from her hands and arms. When she was done, she closed her eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths. The battle was already long over in her mind, the memory of the men who died – none from their clan -- because of that small bag of herbs was already receding from her mind. All that existed now was the battle to come.

Let their preparations be enough, she whispered.

Let the herbs do their work. Let the poultice clean the wound. Let Eivor survive, and gods willing, her sword arm too.

Just let her live.

When she returned, Valka was waiting for her by Eivor’s side. There were supplies on a small table beside her: a small, sharp knife with a curved edge sitting next a long saw-like blade. A small jar filled with a clear, sticky liquid, the distillation of pine resin. A pot of tea made from the herbs that Randvi had brought, still steaming. Thick clumps of moss, a jar of honey, and clean linen cloth. Garlic, vinegar, a vial of rose oil. Several buckets of water. And a device Randvi had never seen before, what looked like a hollow bone from a bird attached to a small bladder.

“For washing the wound with salt water,” Valka explained. “To get deep into the wound.”

Randvi winced. Salt in a wound. Every vikingr who ever lived knew that feeling, the sting of salt on an open wound. But on scratches and scrapes, not something deep like this. 

Valka looked at Eivor. “Are you ready?”

Eivor was lying in bed, dressed only in a thin tunic that had been pulled down to expose her right arm and part of her chest. She nodded, a resolute expression on her face.

Valka offered her a stick covered in leather. “This will hurt. You cannot move, and it would help if you did not bite off your tongue. Keep this between your teeth.”

Obediently, Eivor took the stick between her teeth.

Valka fixed her with a stern look. “Do you need us to call in some of the men? To hold you down if the pain becomes too great?” Eivor thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Very well.”

Randvi positioned herself at Eivor’s side, her task to remove the bundles of cloth under Eivor’s arm after they had been soaked with water and other fluids and replace them with fresh cloth. Valka stook ready with the curved knife, recently heated in the fire and cooled to the touch, with the salt water and the instrument made of bone. Eivor was still, sweat gleaming on her face, the only sign of distress was her breathing, slightly faster than normal. Randvi felt that twist in her belly that told her she was nervous and focused on her breathing, telling herself to be strong for Eivor.

But at the last moment, just before Valka removed the dark stained cloth covering Eivor’s wound, Eivor spit out the stick and looked at Randvi with wide eyes.

“Wait, Valka,” she said. Weak though she was, her voice still carried authority. Valka paused with her hand outstretched. “Randvi, you should know something.”

“What, Eivor?” Randvi heard her voice cracking. She leaned close and cupped Eivor’s face with both hands.

Eivor’s eyes locked onto hers and her good hand held onto Randvi’s. Her look, filled with fear and worry and most of all, a desperate sort of longing, said it all. “Randvi, I have always cared for you. For so long. You have been so dear to me. And I should have told you,” she shook her head, frustration dripping from her voice. “I should have told you before now.”

“Eivor…” Feeling as if her heart was cracking open and all the feelings she had kept inside, all that she had told herself she would not say, ready to spill out. Randvi leaned forward, resting her head against Eivor. “You fool of a drengr, I care for you too. So much.”

Her eyes, gray and fierce and beautiful, held hers. “Whether I live or die, you should know that…you are the sun to my eyes. You are the first birdsong after a long winter frost. You are the fire that shines my way at night, and brings me home.” Her lips twisted in regret. “I only wish I had told you before now.”

But Randvi was not sorry and she did not regret. Eivor’s words brought joy, and if her heart had wings, it would soar. She smiled and shook her head, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Eivor…you are my heart. And you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Then she tilted her head, looked once more into Eivor’s eyes, and kissed her.

Softly.

Briefly.

Just the barest touch of her lips on hers. Just long enough to feel her smile against her lips and kiss her in turn.

Just enough to know that this was where she belonged all along. That these were the only lips she ever wanted to kiss again.

When she pulled away, the smile on her lips was mirrored on Eivor’s face. Randvi brushed her hair from her face and caressed her cheek. “Live, Eivor. Let Valhalla wait and stay with me.”

Eivor nodded, and there was such love shining from her eyes that Randvi felt like she could burst with it. Then Eivor took a deep breath, appeared to steady herself, then looked at Valka. “I am ready.”

“If anything was going to motivate you, that would do it,” Valka said dryly. Eivor put the stick back between her teeth. “You cannot fall asleep,” Valka continued. “I must know if I am cutting into something that I would rather avoid.”

“How would she know?” Randvi asked.

“Her arm will stop moving,” Valka said, sending a chill down Randvi’s spine. “I cannot tell that if she is asleep. Do you understand, Eivor? Stay awake.”

Eivor nodded, her face grim and steady.

And so their work began.

The moment Valka removed the cloth from her wound, a rank odor filled the room. It was the smell of rot, of rancid things, and Randvi could not help but wrinkle her nose at the smell. The wound oozed and the flesh was red and angry on the edges, dark and almost black in the center. That dead flesh would have to be cut away.

The first cut was not so bad. The curved blade cut neatly through, so sharp, as if cutting through butter. Eivor closed her eyes and bit down on that stick, fist clenched at her side. She did not move. Valka cut again, cutting away the dead flesh, trying to save the living tissue around it.

When that was done, Valka took the hollow bone and filled it with salt water and put it into the wound. She squeezed the bladder – and that was when Eivor’s eyes widened and a muffled sound, like a strangled roar, came from her throat.

That hurt.

The water ran red and dark and unclean. Valka did it again and again until the water ran with fresh pink blood. Eivor did not scream, but the stick between her teeth looked like it would break and the sweat on her brow was not just from the fever. Her fist was clenched tightly around the blanket, and still, she did not move.

When they were done, Randvi could not say how much time had passed. She was sweating, and so was Valka, and there was a pile of soiled cloths beside the bed. But the wound was clean, the angry dark flesh cut away leaving behind pink skin. Red streaks remained, and that worried Randvi because they could not cut that out. They would have to hope that the distillation Valka had prepared would kill the poison born from the wound.

Valka prepared the pine sap distillation, mixed it with rose oil and garlic and vinegar, then took a cloth and spread it over the wound. When it was thoroughly soaked in the mixture, she took a bundle of moss and wrapped it with clean linen cloth, then dipped it in honey and placed it over the wound. Together, they wrapped another cloth around Eivor’s shoulder and replaced the furs beneath Eivor so the bed was clean and dry. Eivor was allowed to sit up and was given the tea to drink.

“There,” Valka said, satisfied. “The wound should heal. We will change the dressing every few hours, and you keep drinking that tea. How do you feel?”

“Like Hel,” Eivor said dryly. But a tiny smile appeared on her face. “But I can feel my arm. That has to be a good thing.”

Randvi put her hand to Eivor’s cheek. Her skin was flushed and burning still, and she had to hope that the tea would work to bring down the fever and that the wound was cleaned in truth. Eivor smiled and turned toward her hand, pressing her lips to Randvi’s skin. Randvi smiled, despite her exhaustion and worry, Eivor could still make her smile.

“When will we know?” she asked.

Valka took a breath, thinking. “When morning comes, we should know. If the fever breaks, if the wound looks like it is healing, then we will know.”

Dawn would not come for several hours.

“Try to sleep until then,” Valka said.

“I’ll stay with her,” Randvi said. “To change the dressing, or if she has any need.”

Valka nodded as if that was expected. Then she left with a promise to return in the morning, leaving Eivor and Randvi alone.

It was a long night.

There was not much to do after Randvi replaced Eivor’s tunic with a clean one, bundled her up in furs and made her a second batch of tea. She needed to sleep; they both did. But Randvi was reluctant and Eivor seemed to be the same. She could not say why. They spoke quietly, words spoken only to fill the silence and provide comfort. 

They did not repeat the words they had spoken of earlier.

But perhaps, they did not need to say it again.

Randvi could see it, everything that Eivor had confessed written on her face whenever she looked at Randvi, could hear it in the murmur of her voice, and the feel of her skin as Eivor’s hand wrapped around hers.

Randvi felt almost…shy. Hopeful, in a way she had never been before.

They had spoken the truth of their feelings for each other, and that would not change, no matter what the morning would bring. No matter what came, they would face it together.

Finally, after enough time had passed that she had to change the dressing and her eyes were beginning to droop, Randvi dragged a chair to Eivor’s side and prepared to sleep.

Eivor eyed the chair.

“You don’t have to sleep in that, Randvi.”

“And where do you propose I sleep, Eivor,” Randvi asked, arching a brow.

Eivor smiled and gestured to the space beside her on the bed, next to her uninjured arm. “The bed is large enough for the two of us.”

Randvi rolled her eyes, but her smile was fond. “I cannot sleep in the same bed with you, Eivor. It would not be proper.” She thought about it a moment, then said, “Besides, I do not want the first time I share your bed to be when you are sick with fever.”

Eivor’s grin said she understood Randvi’s meaning. She wiggled her eyebrows in a way Randvi had never seen before. “So, there _will_ be a day when you share my bed?” 

Randvi laughed, unable to help herself. How could Eivor be like this, after everything. She was so much more than the warrior that their clan knew her for. “Perhaps,” she said.

Eivor’s smile was gentle as she caressed the skin on Randvi’s wrist and hand, their hands still wrapped together. “Then I will wait,” she said. “Until that day comes.”

Until the morning comes, Randvi wanted to say.

But she did not say it aloud.

They said goodnight, Eivor in her bed and Randvi in her chair. Their hands still clasped as they fell asleep.

***

Randvi woke to the sound of birdsong and the light of day filtering through the thatching on the roof. She woke to the feel of Eivor’s hand in hers and the sight of Eivor sitting up in bed, looking at her fondly.

She looked…better. Still drawn and weak, like one who had been laying in bed for days, with more hollows to her cheeks. But there was color to them that was not the angry flush of fever, and there was clarity to her eyes that was not clouded by pain or dreams.

Randvi gasped, falling to her knees beside Eivor and taking her face in her hands. Her skin was warm, but her fever was gone. 

Eivor’s hand, with her injured arm, rose to cup Randvi’s cheek. She would have to check the wound to be sure, had to make sure those angry streaks were gone. But without looking she knew, could feel it down to her bones, that Eivor would be all right.

There was no word to describe the joy she felt.

With a sound that Eivor would later describe as a squeal and Randvi would hotly deny, Randvi threw herself into Eivor’s arms. Careful to avoid her wound and the bulky bandage on her shoulder, but otherwise wrapping herself around Eivor as if she would never let her go. Randvi could not see Eivor’s face, as her face was pressed against Eivor’s neck, but she could feel Eivor’s smile in the rumble of her laughter. Could feel her affection in the arm that Eivor wrapped tightly around her.

The morning had come.

It was filled with hope, and the knowledge that the long night was over, and that they still had time in this life to share together.

Randvi would not waste it.

Not one moment of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: This brought me joy to write and a smile to my face. I hope it makes you smile too. Thanks for reading and commenting on this fic, dear readers. It makes me happy to share it with you.


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